Some days

a burger with an egg on it, a mimosa, a shit ton of coffee, and an upscale coffee shop playing gutter punk are the push-pulls that lead to advanced productivity.

Purely Medicinal (1)

I think it's that recent My Bloody Valentine album that came out early 2014 all suddenly, was the talk of all my feeds, and now I largely don't hear many people mentioning. Or a rough facsimile.

It's been a long enough week that Monday feels like, a week and a half ago. A WEEK AND A HALF! So much longer than four days. Timescale stretched by minutiae. But largely good-- have all the writing in for the Medicine Ball, so my curation/wrangling/writing portion is done, and it's on to the staging, blocking, memorizing.

The theme is (d)constructing Seattle. This theme, or a variant thereof, seems to be on everybody's mind, I just participated in an event called "Inumbrating Pinnacle," which was investigating the Now of Seattle, the Becoming, the Past/Present/Future. For that I wrote 7 pages-- 17 minutes aloud-- of new prose poetry. Still mulling what to do with it now. Perhaps it'll turn up here, in chunks. For Medicine Ball I ended up filling in for a poet who had to drop out. It was challenging to write to two similar themes in one period of time, but I tried to create content that varied enough in tone and subject matter as to be interesting (to myself at least, not sure how many people will see both.)

Now I go to Target. The glamorous Saturdays of weekend workers.

Please Don't Let Me Quote Pink Floyd Again/2015 in Review (two)

It's my thought that years, like decades, are best reviewed with a bit of hindsight. Just like 2010 felt like the last year of the '00s, despite the regenerative rituals and retrospectives, Januaries often feel like the long walk out of the last year.
Any sort of accurate hindsight doesn't tend to start for me until March or April, at which point the full stuff of current years renders reflection superfluous. Still, in the interest of head-clearing, communication, and a throwback to the days when transparency meant connection instead of liability, I always feel compelled to year-in-review.

So. 2015.
A) "A tough year of hard decisions that ultimately has spurred a lot of personal growth and has me set up for much more."
B) "If I could pay to watch 2015 die in a fire, I would."

Depending on my mood.
Let's start with the good, the potentially exciting, or the highlights:
Soliana Monillas: The day before 2015 ended, my Uncle Status was upped by one, as Amara had Soliana Brynn Isaac Monillas. Zion is stoked to be a big brother, and I'm stoked for more Uncle Time. Any year that neds this way has lots of good to recommend it.
ZAPP. So I'd already started to re-acquaint myself with the Zine Archive And Publishing Project, attended some meetings, helped recruit some writers and readers for the Xenographic series, and become loosely re-involved.
This year, however, both Emily Van Der Harten and Kathryn Higgins, who'd been largely steering ZAPP's fundraising/space-finding/still existing efforts both stepped back for various reasons. After talking to them both, doing some soul-searching and self-assessment, I decided to step into the position of Managing Director (informally, I prefer "Team Captain") of the Zine Archive and Publishing Project.I'm working with some great people and the hope and plan is to get ZAPP into a new permanent physical space this year.
I may write more about this later, but on a personal level, I am very excited- and challenged- by this. It will be a better use of my organizational/curatorial skills than co-running 2-3 literature events at a time to no particular end. It'll also help me build new skills in the non-profit field.
Freeway Park. In 2014, we played our first handful of shows, had fun and started to coalesce our sound. In 2015 we got tighter, wrote better songs and played shows in Bellingham, Olympia and San Francisco as well as Seattle nearly monthly. The Makeshift show in Bellingham, Charlie's birthday show at Rendezvous, San Francisco, and the gig at the Highline were particular highlights. Right now we're working on our first official recordings, which we hope to have out first half of 2016. Personally am working on being able to harness the shots-fueled, beer-fist swinging energy of live performances into a bit less comic (or booze-dependent) intensity.
And I really want to sell you a "People in Seattle Love It When You Travel." t-shirt.
Writing. I've been back writing for Nadamucho, I had a goal to write six short stories and have them all submitted out by the end of the year and that didn't happen. But I did write a few that I think have promise. And in addition to having The Third Best of All Possible Outcomes come out on Shotgun Wedding, the newer poems and writing are things I'm pretty happy with. But such things are ephemeral, we'll see how I feel when I check back on them. Either way I'm stoked to have some stuff to work with.
2015 was also the year that Graham got an I-phone. That is neither here nor there, but it's definitely a thing.

Okay. The rough chuckles.
There were plenty of them in 2015. From the supersweet pest invasion that marked the beginning of the year in my apartment (at a time when Rachel was dependent on the space for her air b'n'b biz) to my friend and Co-worker Beau Martin's suffering a stroke that will take a long time for him to recover from (it's going pretty well, he'll be home with his folks soon) to multiple of my friends and family spending time in the hospital for various reasons, there was a reason that my motto for 2015 became let the bad times roll. . .because at some point, that's just what seemed to happen. This at least gained some catharsis in the event Bummed Out, which could be accurately described as my first time curating a "club night." It struck a chord with a few people, and may go quarterly.
Which would be a weird "making a shitty year into art" move, but I'm rarely opposed to such moves.
The roughest for me personally was ending my 4.5 year relationship with my girlfriend in June.
The reasons for this, and subsequent social fallout, is best left off social media both for our privacy, and desires to move forward. I'm sure if you're curious and haven't had one or both of us give our interpretation of events, you know where to find us. I believe I made the right decision, that it's already better for both of us, but that doesn't mean it was easy, or casual or didn't make me incredibly fucking sad.
The one other thing I will say, is that in the event of such a momentous life change it's really easy to take a long view (especially when said event occurs mid-year) that places every event in the context of The One Event. Everything that happens being somehow related, directly, or indirectly, to The Thing and How It Was Handled. where the first half of the year was all building up to this, every argument or bad day was another brick in the wall,  that subsequently every instance of progress, (or regress) was a direct result of said thing. Which is reductive and stupid; while there was a lot in the first half of the year (and last half of 2014) that played into things, there were also lots of decent-to-great times. Likewise, while the remainder of the year can sometimes feel like aftermath-and-regrouping, there's also lots of stuff, good or bad, that would have happened either way.
I guess what I'm saying is that I'm also trying to be a bit less dramatic in my self-narrative.

Well.
That's a lot. If you  made it this far, congrats. You get a cookie, the metaphorical salutation kind, not the actual, delicious kind.

In short, yes: 2015 has been hard. I got lots to work on, both internally and externally in 2016, but I can say with cautious confidence, that I'm starting '16 way better than I started '15, and hope to be able to say the same next year.
And hope that for you as well.

Evenings/Weekends/Holidays

Rain always on the edge of snow and my instagram feed fills up with pictures of evergreens mounted with shiny baubles, LEDs strung on walls, by windows, outdoors. Your friend (back) from DC, posting pictures of the airports, families together after three, eight months, one, three, seven years. Adorable slippers and sweaters we're told are ugly. In the spots with food or drink for public consumption, surrounding choruses of "how've you beens?" and "oh my gosh LOOK AT YOU." A lot can change in a year, sometimes nothing does.

I am skipping the holiday party. The religious reasons for the season are one thing, the faith swell, the secular stop-and-breathe-in, some sort of great siblinghood of humanity. But the scheduled reality of the holiday season is a dedicated break for everyone with work seasons recognized by the Government as Regular. Say 7-10am to 4-7pm, five days a week, give or take a project here, three day weekend there. The holiday party is, was, and will always be scheduled on a Friday night, or maybe Saturday afternoon, depending if the hosts have children, how many hugs they want to give in one evening.

This is why, anymore, as a service industry worker, when people ask me about the Holidays, it's roughly the same for me as Friday afternoons when a well-meaning will say "so, looking forward to the weekend?" and I make a decision whether to say "yes, sure" or whether to say "actually, it's my Tuesday. I work tonight, tomorrow. . ." But that analogy assumes a direct, linear work week, when often, shifts are scattered in such a fashion that there's no functional end of week.

This extends far beyond food-and-drink workers; think also of the Nurses, Bus Drivers, Cops, Firemen, Grocery Store Employees, and many  more professions that are so necessary to society as to not be able to shut down for more than a day (I'd say the food/drink is a soft-necessity; there's an amount of emotional labor that bartenders take on during the holidays especially).  . .

It is a bit surreal to have the lights up around town, the constants of holiday greetings sincere and ironic on every feed, the cousins and friends in from out of town that, likely, I won't get to see, the entirety of Puget Sound rushing to relax, connect, get Meaningful during a handful of days, to walk in, and among it, but feel so solidly disconnected; like watching cars on the freeway from Jose Rizal Bridge, wondering if they'll get where they want in time.

Last in the Wake of the First (January)

A month goes by like apartment tornadoes. A month goes by like runner's high fives. A month
gets drawn like mountaintop selfies. A month gets told like childhood trophies. A
month regroups like a half-finished painter. A month relents like gnawing hyena.
A month goes by like the Kalakala. A month gets told like ferry efficiency in
bygone. A month goes by like cave bats. A month gets on in years by
the minute. A month gets on in piers by the sound. A month
gets told like final evictions. A month goes by like a
server with benedict. A month gets sold like
books of affirmations. A month goes by
like the last church chorus, shuffles its
books and starts again.

Split Schedule Informal Poll:

You work evenings. Not quite graveyard, but the earliest you're ever done with work is 11:30 p.m. Late ends around 3:15 a.m., though the general average for shift-finishing is 1:30 a.m., which is what it'll likely be tonight. You often take between one and three hours after getting off work to fall asleep. Today, due to a variety of forces, you got up at 8:30 a.m. (you didn't work last  night, so you got about 6 1/2 hours of fitfullish sleep) and now it is 1:45 p.m. and you're looking ahead to a night of work. You've achieved a couple of things you planned for the day, but there's a huge gap between the now and the then.
Soo do you:
--all answers are legally binding, btw--

A) Go home and nap; sleep all the sleep you didn't have until your alarm sounds and you have fifteen minutes to get to the train and work. Ignore bodily or mental impulses that try to wake you up, sublimate the already consumed caffeine and pull blankets and pillows over your head and squeeze your eyes tight, demanding every possible second of rest from the universe.

B) Power through. Another cup of coffee, dish doing, poem editing, service-provider-calling, information-gathering, eating, then, after that, work will seem less a daily grind than a remarkably decision-free zone where you can know for facts what your best uses of time are.

C) Start "The Idiot."

D) Wander around the general waterfront area and do a lot of gazing out upon it, toy with the idea of taking a ferry to Bremerton and back again, just in time for work. Backlog that on a list of things to do someday. (See also: King Street Station and a bus to Kent.)

E) A reasonable mix: go home, short nap, dishes, grab some groceries for the morning. Boring blog post, decent day.

F) If you do________________ much of _______________, you'll give yourself permission to ___________ before work. If not, WEEP!

G) What was that movie everyone was telling you about? You've got the time.

These are the things I talk to myself about on days like this.

Canada Island!

not drugs and I have spent the last three days in Victoria, Canada. it is a good place, full of historic architecture, beautiful views, and a record store called Talk's Cheap, which is sadly closed on Mondays and Tuesdays. Not drugs and I inhabit a large, brick organic cafe across the way with multiple Tom Waits-related paraphanalia and hey, the servers are friendly. Who knew.

If you are a native of Seattle (like me) and you ever feel weird about how wealthy/posh/boouizhay Seattle's gotten over the last fifteen years, go to Victoria. You'll feel better.

The suite was a penthouse one, given by one of Not Drugs' professional friends, and we sat in awe of the wealth that it felt like we had, the view we enjoyed, the hot tub we lounged in, and the ability to still eat frozen pizza in a penthouse suit and drink Canadian Club. There is a CD player there. The only CD we had with us was Shabazz Palaces and that is fine.

Thanks!*

For: the northwest, and how even when it feels like you're going to die from sprawl (hello, smokey point) the light bursts and you're out in the Middle of Nowhere, in the best way possible. And that my folks live out here, instead of at some enclave on the edge of Kirkland, so they can be close to a megachurch.
that I've got a new place to live. that i've got good enough friends that the last months have been punctuated by stress headaches, rather than been one constant panic attack or a filthy sleep closet in the ID.
not drugs.
the fam.
creative pursuits and the support they've (already) been shown by Seattle's poetry community.

speaking of Creative Efforts. The now-internet-elusive Wood is marketing the following: OK, so this is me self-promoting. The plan is to get my irresponsible, stupid, violent, sexy and ultimately marketable novel finished, and to get funded to do it, so I'm crowdsourcing, with the aim of getting it sorted this week. You can read more about it here.
Pay it forward, people. While I'm sure he's embarked on more "literary" efforts (i've read some, they're good), Wood also chronically underrates his own work, so it's great to see him getting ambitious.

*I know that being Grateful should be a constant concern, and that the History of Thanksgiving is Wrought and Fraught, but that doesn't mean we can't all use a good reminder now and then. Most folks reading blogs, even those in dire straits, have it better than huge chunks of the world. I believe the reaction to that shouldn't be guilt, but gratitude.

A unit of work:

Saturday was the zine release party for Erg: A Work Zine at Rainey and Jon's house in the CD. The zine is beautiful (and not online, so unlinkable) and the readings from Martha Reiner, Sierra Nelson, Jonathan Shapiro and Rainey Warren were rad. I did a set near the beginning that consisted of the following pieces: missing every day/isolation therapy/loft poem #3/bloodmoney/neo takes the blue pill

its nice sometimes to give older pieces that don't usually get out much a little air. after that we drank lots of wine and beer and ate oranges and started fires in fire pits and I wasn't the worst off there by any means. we made sure the fire was out before troddling home.

Five Videos, Zero Context (koreatrip #3)

Because I don't have that much to say about "Goblin"

I wrote about Police Teeth.

and how "post punk" is not a thing.

and now I'm going to watch a new Archer episode. Days on are half on, days off are half-off. So it goes.

"Jerry scared all the fish away with his loud personal story."

Lazy saturday: Huluing Parks and Rec, The Office, bronwyn is making french toast and coffee, blankets.
later heading up to Stanwood with Dad to visit the grandmas and see some blues at the Hotel Tavern.

Writing this. . .

. . . from a bus station in London, waiting for a coach to Wales. Oh yes.

Catch the right bus.

With my schedule what it is, I catch my reading in forty minute sessions between bus-boardings. I've stopped trying to read things longer than poems on the buses I ride, largely due to the jostling, starts and stops and darkness. I don't get sick per se, but I get annoyed.
So I'm reading The Savage Detectives and because its a Lailey-recommendation and I started it in New York I feel somewhat like hey-- I'm still in New York! Sort of. Even when I'm sitting at the cafe at the Community College constantly checking the clock to make sure I am not late for my tutoring shift.
This morning I decided to come north before my reading session. Usually I sit for a few at Empire Coffee (pictured) in Columbia City. Timing was fortuitous because as I boarded the 41 to Lake City a dude with curly hair and a Steel Tigers of Death T-shirt boarded. Pause. That faint inner-headscratch of recognition.
Hey Arlo.
Well hello, Graham.

Been probably 7 years (last time I saw him I think I'd not yet compiled Because I Don't Play Guitar since the other founding member of the i.o.i. and I last saw eachother; as katherine would often like to reminisce, we met at 13 in a house in Shoreline where a woman who advertised herself as a "writing mentor for teens" was having a meet-up for young writers.

the rest, as they say, is history.
more to come?

"Oh hey. Welcome back."

Got in 11ish. Waited a good forty for my lone bag, my lone bag I'd not intended on checking, but the flight was crowded, so they generously (?) checked my bag for no charge. Took Seattle's mystical light rail home. Until it dropped me at Othello Station I wasn't sure that it actually existed or was simply a taxpayer-funded excuse for the chain-link fences and rubbly parking lots that have become such a cherished part of Seattle's landscape Downtown and south.

Anyway, it's real and the only person I've seen since getting back was Jonny, on his way out the door to work. After getting a pretty good sleep (the planesleep was planesleep) I decided that alright, i've had my time off (watch for Thoughts on NYC soon) time to GET MY WHOLE LIFE IN ORDER.

So to that effect:
I work tommorrow through sunday.
Have a reading on tuesday.

Knew that.

Today I:
* Sent out extensive invitations to the Tuesday reading. Confirmed Details.
* Confirmed an interview for a paid internship at The Vera Project. That'll be monday.
* Filled out the forms for my Unemployment Defferment Request.
E-mailed my various works/internships/people I'm tutoring to let them know I'm back and ready to be at it. Filled out a late timesheet.
* Checked in with the folks. Getting some editing work from Dad, maybe?
* Looked over a bunch of bills I gotta (somehow) pay. That doesn't seem like much, but believe me, the first step is knowing you have a problem.

Today I would Like To:
* Figure out where (the fuck) to send this form so it gets processed quick.
* Get a start on room de-cluttering; once again, important for mental health.
* Finish the (small amount of) unpacking.

I've only got a couple more hours to do these things, so I'm gonna give myself a break and say for the first day back, I've done alright. Over the weekend I have ZAPP sorts of data-entry stuff to do and I want to make broadsides for Genus, Species and Flavour to sell at the gig, produce a bar-job-hunting resume, etc etc.

but its important I catalog the productivities and perhaps the sun that is out as well just so I remember these things happen.

The Decline of British Sea Power and other things that make me want to play air drums

It is forty-five minutes until my time is no longer loggable as community-helping volinternshippery. This is now time I use selfishly, having data-entered, overseen zine-masters productions and made my productivity-proposals for the next week.

right now is all drinking the free coffee, inflicting my personal playlist on Rainey and Kamili and the guys who are at the table drawing their comics. Print out some poems for the writers-group that is actually-going-to-happen.

last night I and Ryan and Bronwyn and Rainey and Lars-for-a-little-while went to Magma Feset '10's Queercore show for the music of Cold Lake and Council of Lions and the poetry of Elissa Ball and then there were other bands and I liked them alright but I was glad to be at a show in a Bike Shop where everyone was happy and dancing and paid attention to the Spoken Word, even when it came at the end of a long night with lots of Rainier.

Days are spinning by fast. That's fine. I wouldn't say I'm "keeping on top of it" but I'm getting better at not feeling like I've been hit by a train, either physically, 'motionly or just in the "wait-what?" sort of way.

this could also be the unseasonably good weather or the coffee or the fact that one of my duties in life involves hanging out with folks who make paper robots and comic books.

Bellingham Revisit Roundup

Remember that post when I said I'd post more about the Capitol Hill Block Party? I either pretended you were a woman and lied to you or I went up to Bellingham twice, Brielle went to New York and I hit up a wedding in Portland all while looking for jobs.

in other words, making jokes about David Yow's majestically grey-haired belly or the proliferation of various types of t-shirts at outdoor rock shows is so two weeks ago.

So. It's been a while now since USS Horsewhip's last official show but their memory lives on in my heart. And in the heart of the USS Horsewhip tribute band made up entirely of former members of USS Horsewhip entitled . . . sigh. . .USS Horsequit. Caught a ride up to Bellingham with James, Chris and Richy and caught their set in the basement of Jinx Art Space. HQ barrelled through a bunch of local classics that hadn't actually been heard for nearly half of the actual band's live sets ("Break Out the Make Out," "People At this Laundromat Need to Mind their Own Fucking Business") and closed with a cover of Nirvana's "Aneurysm" which they dedicated to me and Conan Neutron, of Mount Vicious, who are from Northern California and played next and were a lot of fun even if I didn't want the man's hairy sweaty chest in my face for a half an hour.

Saturday day a bunch of us --breathes in-- katandchrisandbeckie andandrewandjasmineandmarahand uhmeandanotherchrisandcjithinkthatsit went 1.) Rollerskating at the All Skate at Lynden Skateway. Beckie broke her knee falling down at the end of a Taylor Swift song. It is more funny than anything else. 2.) To Ferndale for delicious Bob's Burgers and Brew where the server sighed a lot but was still very nice and I had a burger with an egg on it and the server called Beckie a "powderface." Its funny when nice dadlike old men make cocaine references. 3.) To a park in Ferndale who's name I forgot. It was lovely. 4.) To Wood Coffee in Ferndale where Kat and Jasmine were supposed to play a show. The people there seemed to have no clue about running shows and completely ambivalent about the existence of this one. To that end Kat only played five songs-- two on guitar and two on accordion-- and Jasmine did a truncated set as well. We were all pretty tired though, so despite the killerness of the tunes the shortness of the set was probably okay.

Then a little later there was a housewarming party.

Crashed at Kat and Chris' place. Their cat did little to bother me. Ryan Johnson came up and we had a board game night that also included many beers. The profound look of despair on his face when he and partner J-cup had their turns at Celebrity. Sarah Baker and Kat were victorious in that bout, Chris and I taking a noble Second.

The next day I took a leisurely stroll around and caught a few buses home for $2. I could do more posting (maybe I will) about Bellingham and how its changed and is exactly the same and all that and the people I specifically saw and how great or weird or both it was, but really, its just nice that I have firm fast friendships there and can think fondly of it again.

Maybe we'll talk about Portland next. Or not.

Gimme sympathy, after all of this is done

. . . after a day of doing nothing and working hard at it (peak energy: walking to tesco with john to buy coffee, slicing some pizza) which was much needed, winding down with Land of the Dead and Rum and Coke (former: bad, latter: good) and a fairly solid night sleep where I did however wake up a few times confused as to where I was, the thought that I could easily now be up for the next 48ish hours doesn't seem so bad.

still, considering a nap or some other such activity this afternoon, just to break things up.

Squalor Victoria: London and back again.

After Cardiff it was London time with (definitely) old friends and the odd (relatively) new one. From the age of 13-21 I was in a young writers critique group/collective/gang of hooligans called, ahem "Inducers of Insanity." Largely for the reactions we provoked from Katherine, who was the real-life grown-up that hosted/led/cat-herded us in and out if productivity. Lots to write about those years I guess,
but the important part is that now grown, Eva Z is married to David and they live in Brussels. Shane and Becca live in Dublin. I live in Wales. Kim lives in Amsterdam and is moving to London come fall. This leaves out a few (notably James, Betsy, Deb and Arlo) but was critical enough mass for a legit IOI reunion, complete with writing exercises and everything.

After a quick coffee with Katie (swansea, then london, then back to swansea and wherever else, half the people I meet are travelers) met the crew at Hyde Park.

Hadn't seen Eva or Kim for about 8 years. People do change, but they also don't. It was strange for about a half hour, all of us riding the bus to Willesden Green where we spent the days, but then felt completely natural.

Look me up next time we're in the same city. . .
Or even on the same continent, really.

and it felt like we will.
also sort of makes me want to get a job where I'm never anywhere too long. thoughts you have on a bumpy coach when you can't sleep or write crossing over to the other side of the Severn.

the last few days have been pretty rough and tumble on all counts. i'd be lying if i said i wasn't a bit worse for wear and worn out. i think i've at least got better perspective on it than last time i left a place, probably not as good as the next time.

that hardly helps in the moment, though.

June! Everything faster than everything else.

Over a year ago I had a post called "It being March already is fucking up my chi." I think this is true, still-- i.e. perhaps my chi remains fucked up, from last March, but the fact that it is now June seems more in line with how I feel than had it continued to be May. Which is good cuz I sure as hell can't change it.
and this month is filling up. I don't have a dayplanner but maybe I should:


June 1st: Today. Return to work.
June 5th: Minion Fest-- The Antagonist's Print Relaunch. Featuring DJ Sets from Punk John, Gothfunc and er, we'll go with Kilogram, who will be playing all the hottest* indie punk, post-rock, garage metal, ugly country and synth-thrash. F'reals.
June 11th: The Crunch, featuring Simone Mansell Broome.
June 12th: Possibly, tentatively last day of work and subsequent Rhyddings-Goodbye Party*.
June 13th: Happy Birthday, Mom. Also, Mystery Action at The Halfway House, featuring Lewis Watkins' new band, visual art from Dan McCabe and a spoken word set from myself.
June 15th: Happy Birthday, Dad, Brielle*.
June 18th: Last Crunch I'll be at for a while. Doing a farewell-type feature and hopefully "moving" lots of "units" to fund my "trip" to "London."
June 19th: Gig in Cardiff with Mab Jones at O'Neil's.
June 20, 21st: IOI reunion in London. Probably grab tea with Katie Weston and maybe look up Nia as well for while-I'm-here hellos. Happy birthday me.
June 30th: MC for Gemma June Howell's "Inside the Treacle Well" booklaunch.
July 3rd: Stuff Happens 2! MC/Organise/Oversee/Promote. Featuring Peter Read, Susie Wild, Leslie McMurty, Wood Ingham, Liza Penn Thomas, uh, Adam, loads more people and artists. Launch of the Global Poetry System website.

somewhere in there add: at least 2 Graffiti Walks*, maybe recording with Punk John, a trip to Newport with Dave Beer*, loads of more Seeing Wales and More of the UK While I can, the whole packingandgettingridofthingsthing and of course lots and lots and lots of genuine, meaningful, reflective times, unforced and completely natural. ahaha.

* probably 3 songs by McLusky, a Pavement (for a sense of history) and like, something by Neko Case and about half of "Lets Stay Friends."
* I may actually die from various bodily failures at this point, rendering the rest of the list moot.
* Hey Brielle, do you want any sweet Welsh swag?
* Taking pictures of, not making.
* At Cardiff Central I heard someone talking about Newport and took it as a sign from God that Dave and I and maybe Roy need to go to Newport and get very very drunk. I'm not even kidding.